Archive of Our Own

They say that the tragedy of a second son is how he will never inherit. So long as the first born stands, all his father owns will belong to him someday. This is the way of the world, and how it has been in the seven kingdoms for millennia. Only Dorne dared to challenge this rule of inheritance, and even they still favour sons.

If a second son is a tragedy then what is a daughter? This was something she asked herself often. She would never inherit. As her father himself was a second son she was inheriting nothing from an inheritor of nothing. The closest thing she had to proper inheritance was her last name and the marriage alliances it could make her.

Little girls all over the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of being Targaryen princesses. They playacted her family's history and tragedies out in the streets, naming themselves after her dead kin and even herself. This was the burden of a ruling family. To be both myth and master. She did not lie to herself about her life and future. The princess had a far better life than most girls, even most noble girls, ever would. She had access to finances that would make all but a lord paramount's daughter weep.

However, a princess from a second son is still a princess in name only. She only matters in the way she can be married off to tie other lines to the main family. Perhaps her own children or grandchildren would marry back in, keeping the Targaryen bloodline pure. She, however, was destined to be stripped from her family and use this little more than a noble broodmare.

In the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros sixteen was when a young girl became a young woman. Sixteen and flowered actually. She'd been a girl flowered for a while now. There's no privacy in a princess’s life. The castle had known within days simply from the gossiping of the maid staff.

There had been tentative offers for her hand from the moment her birth had been announced. This was fairly common for most noble daughters, and something she had long since accepted. After her sixteenth name day things began to speed up rapidly.

The king and queen, rulers first and her grandparents second, often openly discussed among the family who might make the most useful match.

All she could do was duck her head and continue on with her embroidery. It was not a princess's place to complain of her marriage.

In some ways she was lucky that the dragons were dead. Before the dance had stripped her family of their ultimate power she might have been married to one of her uncle's sons. If one of them demanded her then that could still happen. The crown prince especially would have his pick of ladies. If he wanted her her grandparents would have given her  to her cousin without thought. Her father would have told her to be proud she would be a queen.

Luckily she wasn't getting shuffled off to one of her irritating cousins. No, it seemed a lord paramount was to be her new beau. Or possibly a higher lord of wealthy means like the Valaryons or the Hightowers.

That was the topic of the family meeting today.

There was a whisper of movement beside her. The soft flutter of fabric as somebody shifted their weight from foot to foot whispered in her ears. It was the only sign of his discomfort her sworn shield ever gave at the topic of discussion. It was the only sign they could afford without raising suspicions.

Most sworn shields would not have been granted audience to the Royal Family's private discussions. Most sworn shields however, weren't Targaryen themselves.

Well, her shield wasn't a Targaryen either... He was a Sand. Caleb Sand, her father's bastard son. presented to the royal family by his mistress’ kin after she died in childbirth. They had grown up together. Perhaps her lady mother might have objected, had she survived her own childbirth. Instead her father had raised the two of them together.

In some ways having an older brother had been handy. She’d had someone more than willing to give into her every whims and cater to her happiness. It had been soothing to know that such actions were driven by heartfelt emotion and not attempts at social climbing.

The princess could not trust a single one of her friends. All of them would climb over her dead body in a heartbeat for a chance at catching her cousin's eyes. That was something she could never forget about the young ladies fosted off on her as her ladies and waiting.

That's why she had demanded Caleb as her sworn shield in the first place. She needed someone who she knew would be loyal only to her no matter what.

He was the closest thing to a safety blanket she had left.

“You can sit down Caleb.” Her father said, waving his hand to an empty seat.

Her sworn shield shook his head. “I'm fine where I am, Father. I need to keep an eye on my  lady.”

Her cousin Viserys, the crown prince’s firstborn son, laughed and rolled his eyes. “You should know better than that uncle. When has he ever left his place behind his sister's skirts?” The royal sneered.

Her father gave a sigh and shook his head. Normally her uncle the crown prince was there to keep his spawn in line, but he had recently taken quite ill. He was still resting with the masters, but there was great concern among them that he would not recover.

What a pity.

Her grandmother spoke next. Josephine had once been a proud lady of house Lannister. Now, with her silver hair and soft blue eyes she could almost fit in with the elder Targaryens. She was pretty enough that someone outside of the family wouldn't recognize the difference.

Her beauty lacked the unearthly touch of Old Valyria. She was still quite the beauty. People still marveled at her face and grace. However she could never hold a candle to a true valyrian. Her heart also lacked the hunger of dragon fire.

“I would have only the best match for my dear granddaughter.” She demanded.

Her husband Aegon, the king himself, made an agreeing noise. “We've had offers from your cousins, the Tyrells, and the Baratheons. I imagine the only reason why we haven't gotten one from the Tullys is because their boy is a good decade younger from her. She can't do much better than a lord paramount.”

“I have heard that the Stark boy, Zayne I believe he is named, is quite polite if solemn.” Josephine offered. It was telling that she did not suggest her own cousin's kid. The Lannister heir was a well known womanizer with many bastards already.

Her father shook his head. “I won't have my little girl out in those frozen wastes. Besides, aren't the Starks demanding Alysanne’s gift for a bride price? That's far too much. Why not reaffirm our ties to the Baratheons?”

“The Martell’s have offered their second son, Rafayel, as well.” King Aegon said. “If you want her closer to home, the Velaryon’s young Xavier is an option.”

“And what of the missive I caught you burning yesterday?” Josephine demanded, setting aside her own stitching to cross her arms.

“That was from the Blackfyres.” The king said, silence flooding the room at his declaration. The current Blackfyre heir, Sylus, trying to put his hand in as a contender for a Targyan princess was concerning. “As if I would ever hand that traitorous bloodline a trueborn Targaryen daughter.”

There was rage clear on both the king and her father's face. Her grandmother simply looked away with a soft frown. She'd lost her own father to a Blackfyre rebellion.

Her cousin Viserys gasped. “The arrogance of those Blackfyres! All the more reason to ensure our dearest cousin is safely wed to a proper lord of the Seven Kingdoms. I put my vote in for the Velaryons. You already snubbed their daughter when you picked grandmother. This would go a long way to repairing the breach.”

“Remember, they were rewarded for that snub with even more control of the royal navy. Even now her brother is master of ships.” King Aegon rolled his eyes.

Her father began to pace in front of the fireplace. “So we have decided? It must be a lord paramount?”

“A wealthy enough lord would do as well.” The king informed his second son.

Queen Josephine sighed. “Perhaps we should go with the Baratheons? She'd hardly be the first princess to marry a man older than her, and we could use closer ties with them.”

Her father whirled around and pointed behind her to where Caleb was holding up the wall. “We have close ties with the Barathons!”

Josephine sneered. “One from the right side of the sheets, dear son of mine. Not your little embarrassment.”

The princess did not dare to  look behind her. She was certain Caleb was keeping his face perfectly blank as well. He had long since gotten used to the royal family's opinion of him. They did not consider her bastard brother to be family. He never even sat with them during formal feasts.

In fact she was certain her brother spent more time among the Targaryens as her sworn sword than he had before vowing his service to her.

The Barathons were still irate with her father for despoiling the current Lord's little sister. Never mind the fact that she had died on the birthing bed, cheating them out of their only daughter to wed away in that generation. They’d bemoaned and complained of it so often that her father had had to agree to take Caleb back to the palace simply to silence them.

As if the gods had heard their complaints of the loss of their daughter, fate had insured the current Lord Barathon had only been granted daughters from his late wife. Five of them in fact, with the final two, twins, taking his wife to her grave. 

While the Tully's only had a boy of seven years to offer, the Baratheons offered her an old lord well into his fourth decade. She bit her lip and resisted the urge to scream at the thought. She would be more of a nursemaid than a wife. To be expected to lay with such an old brute.... How horrid.

“It would soothe things over,” the king agreed. “And it would keep the Velaryons from snatching any more power. Don't you want your little dragon away from the cold north my son?”

Her father hesitated, considering it.

It felt like someone had jammed a northern icicle into her sternum. She watched her father gaze out the window and decide her fate. Surely he wouldn't give her away to that old fool?

She’d heard the man had a great crack in his face that he'd earned during the last Blackfyre rebellion. Most men showed off their scars with pride, and saw them as proof of their status as warriors. The princess preferred the ethereal beauty of valyrians. What care had she for marks of valor? A husband covered in pits and marks would look like a beast compared to her. At that point her family might as well offer her to a mangy old bear.

“I'll write to the Baratheons to discuss their offer in more detail. I will promise them, but I'll let them know that their offer interests us.” King Aegon said cooley. “That still gives you a chance to back out.”

Josephine rose and strode to her husband's side. “Yes, I'm sure they'll be delighted with her. Lord Baratheon does need a good heir, and I'm confident she can give him one. She has such lovely hips.”

The princess ducked her head and said nothing as her relatives continued to discuss her as if she was a prime head of cattle. This was the cost of years of good food and fancy dresses. Even privilege had a price.

Gently, and only for a second, a warm hand settled on her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. She glanced up for just a moment, careful not to let what she was looking at show. Her eyes met a familiar pair of Targaryen purple. The mark that her sworn sword was very much her father's son. That and his fair face. Caleb was by far the loveliest of her kin. His black Baratheon curls and his hefty build were all that came from his dead mother.

She let herself relax against the back of her chair. Whatever else was to come, Caleb was there for her. Just as he had always been. Whether that was as her sworn shield or her sweet older brother.

As the bells of the hour rang out from the great sept the family gathering began to break up. The king, her father, and her cousin Viserys needed to prepare for the upcoming small council meeting.

The princess allowed Josephine to wander over and compliment the delicate embroidery work she was doing for a pillow case. It would belong to her trousseau.

As soon as was polite she excused herself and scurried away. She had more important places to be and many things to do.

At the end of the night, well after supper and an evening spent embroidering with her grandmother, the princess waved her sworn shield away. She nodded at the Kingsguard at the end of the hall. A second son's daughter had no need for one of the few Kingsguard knights alone. He was there because both of her uncles' sons also resided in this wing. They were at the far end of the corridor. He was stationed between the two boy’s rooms. She didn't let that fool her though. She knew better than to think that he wouldn't report her movements to her grandfather, the king, if asked.

So she waved her brother away, let the maids dress her down for the night, and then locked the door behind them. In truth it wouldn't stop a determined person from breaking in, but with both the solar and her bedroom door locked she felt things were a bit more secure.

It was two ticks on the candle later when the tapestry in the far corner of her bedroom rustled as someone slid out from behind it. The secret passageway there slid shut with a faint rumble.

The man that stood before her was no longer there as her sworn sword. He'd cast aside the formal clothing and sword belt that he wore within the castle. They both knew there was a sword hidden under her bed for emergencies.

The boy who stood before her in just a tunic and sleeping pants was simply her brother Caleb. Had he grown up with his mother, if she had lived, he would have been called a Storm. The princess had always thought the name suited him. Caleb was much like an oncoming storm, awe inspiring in the most terrifying of ways. He was the kind of thing that could be witnessed but not outrun.

There was a reason both her uncle's sons no longer dared to spar with him. It looked bad for the trueborn princes to routinely be knocked on their asses by a simple bastard. Even if that bastard was their older cousin.

“Brother!” She greeted him with a soft nod of her head.

He gave her a faint smile in return. “My sweet sister is all dressed down. Shall I return tomorrow morning instead?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I've much nicer ways that you might serve me. You can start with fluffing my pillows.” She waved an impertent hand at the many downfilled pillows on her bed.

He snorted but gave into her whims. She watched him lean over and carefully begin fluffing and arranging her pillows in the way she most liked. She watched the way the thin linen of his sleeping tunic rippled as the muscles in his back moved.

A familiar heat began to flicker in her lower abdomen.

He was arranging them in the way they normally were when the two of them slept in her bed. That was something their father had not allowed them to do since she was nine years old. She barely remembered it.

Apparently some of the maids had started to whisper about queer Targaryen customs. They had all been dismissed. However, concerned that others might think she'd lost her maidenhead incredibly young and out of wedlock, her grandmother had demanded her father put an end to it. They hadn't been permitted to sleep in the same bed since.

Not that this had stopped them. What she wanted Caleb always found a way to supply.

She had often sought her brother out when the winds had stormed and howled, needing someone to make her feel safe. Her father had stripped even that comfort from her for the sake of propriety.

Her and Caleb had learned ways to get around his edicts long ago. Why else would her brother be holding up the sheets and gesturing for her to climb in? The pillows in her bed were now carefully arranged to situate two people instead of the usual one. No, her and Caleb had never been ones to give into other’s demands.

Despite him being a Sand, her brother and her sometimes felt like the only two dragons left in the family.

Oh... how it bit at her that she would never get to ride one. That foolish mismanagement from previous generations had stripped her of the chance for a loyal beast all her own. Well... a loyal beast other than Caleb.

Had she possessed a dragon no one could have forced her to marry. She could have taken Caleb and fled the moment negotiations and discussions began. Who would have been able to stop her? None of her current inn had the kind of fire inside of them that she knew a dragon rider would need.

King Aegon was burnt out and weary. The weight of the crown had long since smothered his inner flame. Josephine was a Lannister through and through. Their uncle was now a man so ill he could not leave his own bed or tend to his own chamber pot. Her cousins were two whiny entitled boys who had never been told ‘no’ a day in their lives. On top of that, her own father was a pathetic fool who bent to the whims of others simply to make them happy.

A dragon did not bow. A dragon ruled. 

If she had possessed a dragon she would have burnt Stormsend to the ground. There was no way they could fost some crusty old lord on her if there was no castle at all. She thought she would have been good at it, cruel and strict with a fearsome warrior beast. She would have dominated the skies. Only Caleb could have compared.

The two cuddled up in bed together, sharing heat and warmth as they had since their childhood. Much was still the same. They were still as thick as thieves, and Caleb was still as suicidally loyal to her as he had ever been.

But so much had changed as well. A decade ago no one would have dared to chat about selling her to the highest bidder. There had still been hope and light in the family back then. Her grandfather had had far more fire inside of him. Her uncle and aunt would have still been deliriously in love, and her aunt was still alive. Her own father had been far more present in both of their lives. They had been a family once in action as well as name.

Then a series of natural disasters had plagued the realm. Managing Westeros through it without it collapsing under the strain had exhausted her grandfather and smothered out his fire. The death of his wife to illness had hollowed out her uncle, and left his sons to be raised by overindulgent nursemaids. Which made them into the whiny entitled brats they were.

Her own mother, who had been expressly told to wait before attempting another pregnancy, had signed her own death warrant trying for a son. She ceased taking her Moon Tea after her husband had brought home a bastard son. Mother had gotten the son she wanted, although it had cost her everything. Childbed fever had stolen her mother away. Then a summer chill had ended the baby brother as well. Her mother’s great sacrifice to supply her husband an heir had ended in nothingness.

While her father might not have loved her mother, he still grieved their deaths. It had left his young daughter for several years to be practically raised by her older brother. Caleb was her brother, her father figure, and her sworn shield. He was the kisser of boo boos, the decider of meals, and the guardian against horrors in the dark.

Now her family had turned its attention back to her, but it was years too late for the affection that had rung dry. There was only one blood relative that she cared for now.

There was only one of her kin that she considered deserving of her care and affection now.

The princess rolled over and slung a leg onto her brother's hip, pulling him close. “Caleb, promise you'll give me anything?”

“Of course.” He said unwisely. At the same time he brushed her silver blonde hair out of her face and kissed a strand of it. “You know I'd give you the world if I could. Besides, as your sworn sword I am bound to my lady’s will.”

She smiled sweetly at him. Closing her eyes as she did so he couldn't see the malice hidden within them. He was the only one of her kin who could read her so clearly as to see the trap she was springing before it was even sprung. “I wish a dragon would take me.” She told him mischievously.

“If your family’s great beasts were to ever return I would throw you upon one's back and let you take to the freedom of the skies at your will." He promised her. This was a discussion they had had often as children. What they thought their dragons would have been like had they lived in a better time, and what they would name them. “Where would you like to go? Old Valeria?”

She shook her head with a sigh. “They intend to sell me as a broodmare to an old lord. Nothing good happens to dragonesses that were used in such a way. But the fire is too burnt out in our kin for them to care.” She snuggled closer to him as if seeking comfort. Her leg she pushed over his hip even further, until he was cradled in the crease of her thighs.

He studied her, subconsciously suspicious, but far too used to how tactile she was in bed. “If I could take you away I would." He whispered. The soft amethyst eyes of his head darkened into pained violet.

She giggled and brushed his nose with her own. “I wish a dragon would take me.” She repeated again. “Until I was writhing from pleasure in the sheets stained with blood.”

His eyes widened. Now he understood. Now he saw the trap, but it was far to late.

Before he could react she used the way her body was strung against his to flip him on his back. She rolled with him, landing astride her brother. In some ways she still intended to ride a dragon.

“Sister! Your Highness! You can't.... this is inappropriate!” He stuttered out.

He always swapped to ‘your Highness’ when he was trying to create distance between them. As a child had driven her into a tantrum more than once. As a young woman she simply smiled at him. “A sworn sword should do as his lady commands.”

“Your chastity is for your wedding bed, my lady." He responded through gritted teeth.

She laughed bitterly. “You think that fat old stag deserves it? Your uncle with five daughters and a dead wife already. I think he's well accustomed to used cunts. He'll hardly notice.”

“Someone will hear. One of the maid staff.” Her brother tried again.

“I just dismissed them all for the night. And the kingsguard is guarding my dear cousins. So long as neither of us screams no one but us will know.” She said. She rocked her hips against him, impatient for his inevitable surrender to her whims.

He fluttered those gorgeous purple eyes that marked him as her brother and guiltily looked away. His control was slipping. “We can't,” he breathed out. Despite what he’d just said his face was creeping ever closer to hers. His hungry gaze was now locked squarely on her soft lips.

He was finally giving in. Of course he was. When did Caleb ever do anything but give her what she wanted?

“I'm a Targaryen princess. I was born to ride a dragon. There are only two true dragons in this castle, and they're both curled up in this bed.” She reminded him.

He tore his gaze away, panting as if he had gone a full spar in plate armor. “I am no Targaryen.”

“Yet you’re twice the dragon any of them will ever be.” She reminded him. “You and I both are flames from the same source. We were meant to burn together.” She traced her finger down his lips where she would slice him for a proper Valerian wedding. No one in her family had had a Valerian wedding since the dance. How she had dreamed of taking Caleb to Dragonstone and doing it properly.

If she didn't think it would get him executed she'd have done it the day she flowered. 

“We were born of the same source.” Caleb agreed, sounding wretched.

She pulled him close and pecked the gentle, almost chaste kiss on his lips. “And we are the blood of Old Valeria. It is no sin, what I ask of you.”

“You are a princess of the Seven Kingdoms." He reminded her. As if duty was enough of a chain to douse the fire in her heart.

She shook her head. “I am your sister first and foremost. Had the gods been kinder I would have been your sisterwife.” It was a truth two of them knew well.

“May the seven forgive me." He whispered before darting in to seal his mouth over hers.

This was not the first time they had kissed. The two had always hungered for each other. Even when they were too young to properly understand it. Many an afternoon had been wiled away in the quiet of their quarters playing ‘king and queen’. His favorite was to name her Rhaenyra, the true queen, and himself the Rogue Prince Daemon. How often they would playact a better ending for the dance.

What was happening tonight with no play act. He devoured her with the kind of hunger only a dragon could summon. He laid a harsh kiss on her, biting at her soft pink lips. She gasped at the sensation. Caleb released a pleased growl at the noise, then proceeded to plunder her mouth with his own tongue.

They were panting into each other's mouths, sharing air. It began to heat up as it was passed from lung to lung. This life breath of the world, filling both of them one after the other. Passing life and power from one to another.

They shared the same air, they shared the same blood in their veins, and matching fires in their hearts.

Eager to move things along, she ground down on top of him. Caleb made a startled but pleased noise, as if he had forgotten how she was straddling his hips. Through her thin shift and his soft sleeping trousers she could feel the chub of him beginning to harden.

Like a dog to its master her sweet older brother roused to her whims.

She felt his warm hands trace down her shoulders and slide forward to cup her breasts. He continued distracting her with kisses as he weighed them in his hand and gave them a faint squeeze.

As a princess she's been too well guarded to fear being groped in the way some lesser nobles or common maids were. Any man foolish enough to try would have lost his hand to her brother’s blade. Still, she'd seen it happen enough times at feats and the like. It always disgusted her. The way the man would reach out and squish such a delicate part of the lady's body.

What Caleb was doing felt lovely.

The warmth of Caleb's palms seeped through her shift and caused her nipples to harden. He gently grasped and squeezed her breasts. She couldn't help but sigh into his mouth at the sensation. After a moment one of his thumbs slid across to tweak her nipples through the thin cotton of her chemise.

It was like a flash of soft fire in her veins. She jolted at the sensation and let out a soft squeak. Caleb couldn't help but laugh at her response. “Too much?” He teased.

Her own hands had been propping her up, holding her above him. Instead she shifted her weight so all of it landed on his pelvis. She rocked down on him, savouring the hard heat of him between her thighs. Her hands she settled on his shoulders. “Not enough," she responded. “Do a better job or I will do it myself.”

“So needy." He chuckled. “My sweet sister has nothing to worry about. I'll give her exactly what she needs.”

As he spoke he ruled his hips against hers. She could feel him now fully hardened and trapped beneath her weight. The friction of him grinding into her caused sparks to flare behind her eyes. She walked back with a soft gasp, grinding the sensitive spot between her thighs directly against him.

“That's it.” He crooned. “Just do what makes you feel good.”

Ever the obedient little sister, she continued to grind and rub against him in search of her own pleasure. Caleb continued to fondle her chest. Going so far as to slide his hands under her chemise so he could touch her skin to skin. At one point he pinched her nipple, only to laugh when she yelped at the sensation. 

“You should put this to good use and fuck me already.” She told him, grinding down upon his erection.

“I know you are amazing, but surely even you should know there are some things that mustn't be rushed. Has Grandmother or your septa taught you nothing?” He asked.

She rolled her eyes. “I know that to be too fast or rough is to draw blood that is not needed. But we were made for each other. I will be fine.”

“Twin flames or not, there is preparation that must be done. Have you ever found yourself wet down there? We need to make the wetness flow steadily enough that I can slide inside.” Caleb tried to explain to her.

She scoffed. Did he think her a naive child? Or one of those puritanical followers of the seven who thought any woman who found pleasure in the marriage bed was a whore? “I know how to work up the wetness. I promise you I am wet enough for you. Come inside my castle and see.” The princess demanded. She’d been waiting years for this now. She wouldn't have them backing out!

“And just where would you have learned that?” His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. A storm fell over his face. “What young noble or stable hand should I gut for touching you?” He snarled.

How rude. Had she not just asked him to take her maiden's head? “Is Caleb stupid or has all those blows from tourney swords to the head simply made you deaf and simple?” She asked. “I asked you to take my maidenshead. What makes you think I've had a noble or a servant boy down there?”

“How else would you know that you were ready to take me?” He demanded. “Were you lying, sweet sister? If so I'll still need to work you up to it.”

She lent down and bit him hard on the shoulder in retribution. “I'm more than wet enough and more than ready enough for you. I’ve never had a man down there, but I've heard the whisperings of the maids before. I’ve heard how a lady might find her own pleasure with her fingers. Did you think me a little girl? Naive and unknowing of such secrets?”

“Her highness is truly worldly and filthy.” He chuckled. “But you'll find that you’ll still need working up, more than what wetness this frottage has brought.”

She shook her head. “You took so long to arrive. I had four of my fingers whilst thinking of you.”

He blinked at her in shock. It took a moment for what she had said to register. To get the point across quicker she wiggled the same fingers at him. She’d wiped them off on her sheets as he’d come in, and hadn't had a chance to wash her hands yet.

Caleb's amethyst gaze was drawn to the wiggling digits. Without a thought he wrench them over and held them beneath his nose. She could feel it as he took a slow deep inhale. His eyes rolled back in pleasure as he took in the scent of her wetness still lingering on her flesh. He hesitated, then crammed all four of them into his mouth.

“Caleb! Don't eat me!” She scolded, slapping him.

He didn't even blink at her blows. Instead he simply smiled at her as he cleaned her dried essence off of her fingers. He let out a muffled moan of pleasure as he sucked on them.

“Take those out! That cannot taste good.” She tried to pull her hand away but he held her fast by her wrist. She knew how it tasted because she had tried it once out of curiosity. It was musky and tart.

He slowly cleaned off all four fingers, then pulled them out with a faint pop. Still he did not release her. Instead Caleb pressed a fluttering kiss against each digit before finally allowing the princess to wrench her hand out of his grip. “Far better than you would think." He told her. “And better from flesh than cloth." He muttered.

“What?” Just what cloth had he been tasting that would have had a woman's essence on it? Did she need to shake down the maids? Should she have whoever he was sneaking around with be whipped?

He shook his head and sent her a guilty smile. “Pay it no thought, your Highness. So you had all four of those up your sweet cunt? Do you think that's enough to ready you for me?”

“I can hardly think of anything bigger.” She pointed out. This was a cock they were talking about after all, not a bludgeoning bat.”

Caleb let out a queer sounding laugh. “As inexperienced as you are, four of those will not be  enough my love. However, I am unsurprised that my impatient sister chose to begin without me. Fear not, I shall not waste your earlier efforts.”

While he spoke Caleb slid both hands under her shift and eagerly tugged it off. He flung it across the room where it landed on a padded bench. She’d have to remember to put it back on before the maids entered in the morning.

His eyes darkened as they swept over her naked flesh. He simply gazed at her for a few moments, stupefied by her Valerian beauty. She smiled and preened beneath his gaze. A pretty princess was a useful princess. Kingdoms had been won and lost due to lustful men chasing beauty.

He slid his warm hand beneath her thighs and traced her weeping slit. She hadn't lied to him. She was wet enough that she had begun to soak the front of his pants. Carefully he slid one of his thick fingers between her folds and traced them up and down.

He slowly applied more and more pressure, sliding deeper and deeper between her lower folds until his finger caught on the edge of her twitching hole.

She hadn't managed to find her own completion before she’d heard the rumble of the secret door opening. Her body twitched beneath his touch, still hungry and waiting. One of his fingers felt like two of hers. Caleb carefully swiped it around her twitching hole, and then slid the finger inside.

He was right, it was far more filling than her own. Not only was it larger than the two of hers she normally used, but it was far longer too. He reached into parts of her that she'd never managed to touch before. 

After a moment he said a second finger in. “Shhh,” he soothed her. “You can take it. My sweet sister is a dragon like no other. She can take her mate’s attentions.”

She shivered up the thought. If they had been dragons in truth, built of flame and scale and wrath instead of soft flesh, they would have been mates. They would have built a nest together in the volcano on Dragonstone and stayed there ever more. Until time turned them both to stone.

Two of his fingers was just as filling as all four of hers. Especially when he began to scissor and move them within her. Still she was familiar with this level of fullness, and opened for him quickly. She could feel her wetness dripping down with the movements of his hands. If he didn't take his trousers off soon they would be completely soaked.

“I pity your laundress.” She told him as she pondered the growing stain on his pants.

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Why ever so?”

“She'll never get the stain out of these.” The princess giggled.

He tilted his head back and laughed. “Bold of you, sweet sister, to assume that I would ever let one of the laundresses clean them.”

“Do you do your own laundry?” She thought she kept him busy enough that he'd never have the time. She mostly kept him busy so that the scullery maids wouldn't think he had enough free time to go wandering into closets with them, but if she was successful then he shouldn't have time for doing his own laundry either.

Caleb shook his head. “No, no. I simply meant I intend to keep these unwashed.” He continued to scissor his fingers inside of her as he spoke.

“They would make rather filthy trophy that will smell atrociously even when dry.” She warned him. Despite her favoring the darker colors of her house she'd stained more than one chemise with the natural fluids of her body. If it wasn't washed soon it took on a musky scent that was embarrassing. Sometimes in the days after her moonsblood she grew lustful enough that she had to change shifts two or three times in a day. Thank the gods she was princess with a bountiful wardrobe.

He closed his eyes and took a deep inhale. The room was already beginning to smell of musk and sex. “That's rather the point, baby sister.”

“Disgusting.” She scolded him. The two of them could both tell it was half-hearted. She’d already made up her mind to ensure that he received a gift of a dirty shift the next time he had to travel away from her. If he wanted a reminder of the gift she was giving him, she would give it to her brother gladly.

Caleb didn't respond to her verbally. Instead he slid another finger deep inside of her. That made three of his, and the stretch was beginning to grow uncomfortable. While she remained plenty wet for him, she could feel the pressure pushing against her sensitive walls.

The princess squirmed as he began to scissor his three fingers open and closed. Slowly thrusting them in and out to prepare her for what was to come.

“Are you sure you need that much?” She gasped out.

He laughed at her again. “Yes. You'll see once we get there.”

Still Caleb took several minutes before he was content with how well he'd worked her open. The sensation went from sharp stinging pain to a gentle feeling of over fullness. It still brought a soft heat to her belly. Only when she was whining and eagerly rocking against him did he slide his fingers out and grasp her by the hips.

“You'll need to raise up if you want me to take my pants off.” He reminded her.

Still hazy with pleasure she nodded her head and rose up onto her knees above him. That left him with just enough room to take his pants off and kick them away. At the same time she reached over and wrestled his tunic off. It was no fair he's been staring at her and she barely gotten to look at him!

Of course she'd seen him shirtless before. Especially around the sparring ring, but this was different. This time she got to touch. This time she got to slide her hands up and down his warm flesh, enjoying the way it shivered and goosebumps raised beneath her fingers.

Then he grabbed her by the hips and positioned her above him. At the same moment she could feel something warm and wet press bluntly against her weeping cunt.

She tried to glance down, to see just what he had been so desperate to prepare her for, but he did not allow her to. Instead he used his spare hand to tilt her chin up and ensure that their gazes met again. “Only look at me." He scolded. “I'll give you exactly what you need, but I want to see the pretty look on your face while I do it.”

“Okay.” She nodded eagerly. “Take me then.”

Never wanting to disobey his princesses orders, the bastard knight gave in. He pulled her down with one deep thrust, burying himself smoothly inside of her. At the same moment his hand reached up and clamped tight around her face and jaw, muffling any noises she might have let out.

They couldn’t afford to get caught.

It was so much more than she had expected. She’d thought she'd known everything from finding her own peaks and pleasures on her fingers. She was wrong. It was as if she had been cruelly impaled. Her body flexed and rippled around it, twitching at the searing pain. Still a part of her wanted more. She wanted all of him. His pleasures and his pains were all hers. She could feel something trickle down her thighs.

She hoped the blood didn’t stain the sheets...

“That's it,” he crooned in her ear as he rocked her through the aftershocks. “Some things are better done all at once. I promise you'll feel better after a few moments.”

Her hand flew up to his hair and gripped it painfully tight. “You sound like you’re experienced in deflowering maidens.” She hissed. Once he told her who she would ensure each and every one of them had to leave court in disgrace. How dare they... How dare he!

“The knights talk, especially after training. Your the only woman I’ve ever fucked.” He assured her.

Slowly he began to rock his hips. Thrusting first gently in little bits, and then slowly adding longer and deeper thrusts. Soon he began to move in an excellent rhythm.

She buckled and gasped at the sensation. Unable to do anything but float through it as he took her deeply again and again. When she began to falter and crumble from her perch above him, Caleb grabbed her by the hips and began to move her through his own sheer might. She could feel the warmth of them on either side of her hips. His movements bringing her up and down his hard length, coating him with her wetness and speckles of blood.

“Ohh!” She gasped, near lost in the pleasure of him. He took her so well and so deeply, she wasn't certain she had a long left. Already she could feel the familiar winding of a coil in her stomach. Her thighs trembled, but Caleb's grip on her did not falter. He continued to bounce her eagerly up and down his cock.

“That's it!” He sighed. “Such a lovely girl, riding me like that. I always imagined having you like this.” He tilted his head back and let out a rather graphic moan.

She shushed him quietly but didn't stop moving. The two rutted together like feral beasts lost in the sensation of each other and the flickering of their twin flame. Caleb continued to pound into her until she was a breathless panting mess.

Still, even that wasn't enough to push her over the edge.

Eventually she grew irate and grabbed his hand. She pulled it off of her hip and slid two of his fingers down between her thighs. Using her own as a guide she carefully showed him the delicate nub right above her cunt. “Rub it!” she demanded. It was the spot of her body that felt the best, and was the quickest way to find her peak. She spent many evenings with her eyes closed playing with a little nub and thinking of Caleb.

Her brother got the point right away. He began to swirl his fingers first through her wetness, and then against her delicate nub. He was cautious with the amount of pressure he applied, slowly increasing it until her hips began to buck in pleasure.

“Come for me.” He demanded. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

She was going to. There's nothing she could do to stop her peak from coming now. Instead she gave into it all. Tossing her head back and moaning softly as she relinquished all control to her older brother.

With one hand he was still hefting her up and slamming her back down to his length. The other ones swirled around her delicate clit, causing lightning shocks of pleasure through her body.  Her pleasure snuck up on her like a rogue wave. One moment she was riding him and panting. The next her eyes were rolling back as she broke apart beneath his relentless thrusts.

Her body clenched around him, holding him tight and fast inside of her. Her own hips bucked wildly, guided along by his careful hand.

Realizing what was happening, Caleb went forward and smothered her mouth with his own. Swallowing her cries. It was a good thing because she couldn't have kept them quiet otherwise. The last thing they needed was someone overhearing them.

He let her work her way through the blinding waves of her climax. Only when the pleasure had begun to ebb did he release her. She slumped against him panting. Still impaled upon his hard cock, she clenched around him.

“Can I please?” He begged. “Sweet sister, please have mercy on your poor bastard brother.”

It took a bit for her to catch her breath. She slumped against him panting for a while before slowly nodding.

The nod was good enough for him. Caleb pulled her flat against his chest and began to thrust into her even harder. She could hear the vicious wet slap of his flesh against hers as he drove against her again and again. His hips moving at a steady pace as if caught by some feral unknown madness. She simply lay there and enjoyed the painful and pleasurable aftershocks of overstimulation as she let him work his way to completion inside of her.

The last moment when he began to stiffen up he attempted to pull her off of his lap. She tightened her legs around him and did not go. He started it and he would finish it now. She would have his seed inside of her. For who was more worthy to breed a dragoness than another dragon?

He gasped her name in shock, but it was too late to stop. Instead he fell apart buried deep inside of her. He shook and groaned. Burying his face in her hair and breathing in her scent to calm himself while his body pumped her full of scorching heat.

Offering him the same kindness he’d given her, she let him work his way through his climax until he lay still beneath her.

For a while the two of them simply lay there in lovely silence. Then Caelb rolled her over and laid her on the dry side of the bed. He staggered to his feet and over to her wash basin. He returned with a damp cloth. Carefully he spread her legs and began to wipe the blood and seed off of her skin. “If your family finds out there will be hell to pay," he whispered at last.

She smiled smugly down at him. “You know, father once told me that had he been firstborn he would have solved the problem of no male heir by letting us wed each other. He said he would be smarter than King Viserys had been, and would simply seal our claims the traditional way.”

“But he's not firstborn. There's uncle and his sons still ahead of him.” Caleb reminded her sadly.

She nodded. “For now. Uncle's sons have been so very dutiful and visiting him though, haven't they. What a pity it will be when whatever he has turns out to be contagious.”

“You’d best hope it isn't or the entire Castle is at risk.” Caleb scolded her. She knew why he was concerned. One never knew when the gods were listening. It was unwise to give them ideas. The Divine were often cruel enough without mortal assistance.

“It could be contained to only them.” She told him

He cocked his head to the side. “What? Uncle's sickness?”

“Three drops from the vial tucked in my sewing box in each of their drinks and they'll be ill before the week's out.” She told him. “I only need to reapply it every three or four days. No one refuses a princess the right to pray over her ill uncle.”

His violet eyes widened in shock. “Poison?”

“Not in the traditional sense. It's actually a chemical used to set dyes. It's used heavily in the Free Cities to set dye to cloth, especially darker dyes like our scarlett and black clothes. Unfortunately those who ingest it often become weak and bedridden. Smart slaves take care not to intake any whilst dying cloth... but no one asks about cloaked girls in the marketplace purchasing dye fixatives.”

“You speak of treason," he warned her.

She trailed her fingers up his chest and scratched him under the chin. “This is treason. What's a little more?”

“Acursed is the kinslayer.” He reminded her. He finished wiping her down and threw the dirty cloth to the floor.

She hummed lowly. “I see only two true dragons in this castle. The others are no kin of mine.”

“The gods won't see it that way.” Caleb grabbed her hairbrush and began to work on the tangles their previous activity had caused.

“I am a Targaryen.” She responded while he brushed her long locks. “I bow to neither gods nor men. Assist me in this brother and we'll have the crown secured in mere weeks. Don't you want to kneel for your queen? Or are you more eager to be king?”

Caleb hesitated. His eyes darted away. He stared at the wall for a few moments then slowly shook his head. “A King’s word is law," he whispered, finishing brushing the tangles from her hair. “What we can do to our uncle and cousins cannot be so easily done to King Aegon.” He then set down the brush and began the start of a sleeping braid.

“Have you not seen him rubbing his chest? His heart grows weak and pains him often. I think our grandfather has few years left to live.” She said. She tilted her head as she spoke so Caleb could finish braiding her hair.

Caleb closed his eyes again. “So be it," he whispered harshly. “Let me do this for you. Only one of us has to be a kinslayer.”

Laying there with him, his seed still dripping from her thighs, she knew she'd never wind up in the stormy castle of that old stag lord. She'd already stolen the Baratheon she wanted. She’d taken years to carve the stag skin off of him to reveal the dragon scales beneath. They’d never let a queen rule. The dance had made that clear. However it would hardly be the first time two competing claimants had been wed to end a dispute. A naturalized king, and his true born sister queen.

If they had to burn their entire family down to do so, they would. She knew all she had to do was wake the dragon inside him. After all, a dragon would do anything to protect their mate.